#ur missing a U !!!

[majunju]

caleb 🍎

[coco6420]

PLEASEEEE you cannot convince me that Poseidon going "in all my years of living, it isn't very often that i get pissed off" isnt the same thing as your elementary teacher going "in my 20 years of teaching, i have never had a less well behaved class".

[thriftdyke]

it really does bother me how no one can seem to answer the question “what even is romantic attraction, really.” like some people are like “it’s who you wanna kiss and cuddle <3” and I’m like ok well kisses and cuddles can be either sexual or platonic depending on context. “It’s who you feel passion/desire/arousal for” well that just sounds like sexual attraction which you can have without even knowing somebody so I fail to see how that’s romantic. “It’s who you want to go on dates with” I go on dates with friends all the time plus “date” is a social construct anyway there’s really no innate difference between a date and hanging out. “it’s who you have deep feelings for” great news for you that can be literally any type of relationship. my friend told me she defined it as “who you wanna give roses to” and I’m like do u hear urself??? like the more I talk to people the more I’m convinced romance and romantic attraction is an elaborate socially fabricated illusion that has no real defining characteristics. and like there’s nothing Wrong with it being a constuct but why people are so attached to defending the supremacy of it is something I cannot for the life of me figure out

[creepycoffins]

I see you, you see me. How pleasant, this feeling.

[wu-does-art]

thinking about Nico adjusting to letting himself miss and long for the people he loves. based on these bits from the sun and the star:

" As Nico and Will followed the trogs, he thought about how much he missed Hazel. He was learning to make peace with that feeling. It was okay for him to miss people because that meant he wanted them around in his life. That idea was *very* new for him- he was used to either pushing people away or watching them recoil from his presence." *

" That was the most surreal thing of all... Was he happy? Nico wasn't very familiar with the sensation, but he couldn't deny that he felt wonderful in Will's presence. He even longed for the son of Apollo when they were apart. A funny thing had happened as the two grew closer: Nico suddenly understood all those cheesy, sappy love songs he'd always hated."

[danger-bird]

POV: You just got handled by Ais, and now someone's coming 👀

𓅪

ps: I wasn't there when it happened, ask @sparrowsupportgroup - it was their bday party and they saw everything!

[iizuumi]

Good morning Vice Captain 💛

[ruvigapo]

Run boy run!! The sex monsters eat salmon!!

In which i arrive Fashionably Late to the fishssek party

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most. 

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes. 

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks. 

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth. 

it’s beautiful. 

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded. 

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere. 

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again. 

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling. 

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.” 

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face. 

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips. 

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs. 

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!” 

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there. 

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot. 

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.” 

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word. 

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology. 

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown. 

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again. 

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it. 

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.” 

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?” 

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.” 

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.” 

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow. 

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice. 

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter. 

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself. 

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest. 

he hopes it never goes away.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

i drew this in the most unromantic way possible please understand that ethan is just their miserable wet cat they found outside in the snow

[heynhay]

<slides in last minute> i made it to mermay! insp from this lovely piece by @speakswords

[withlovemark]

“lights, camera…action!”

synopsis -> he’s an actor. you’re an actor. everyone’s super duper professional while shooting the new, highly anticipated office coworkers enemies to lovers drama!…until you have to shoot a sex scene.

warnings: smut! dry humping, oral (female receiving), jaehyun beats his meat to the sound of your moans

being paired up with your long time crush jaehyun! for this drama was already hard enough, and now you have to do a sex scene with him. you’ve read this script over and over again, mentally preparing yourself for this moment. even having intimacy coordinators guiding the both of you like it was a dance. at every practice, jaehyun always reassured you, asking if it was okay to touch you here and there, creating a safe and comfortable space to work but every touch left a lingering feeling and now the nerves were getting to you.

“hey y/n, nervous?,” he walks in the set, dimples on display.

“a little bit,” you confess, “but i trust you.”

he responds with a soft smile, giving you a small nod, “let’s do our best today.”

today was the scene — the scene where your characters come together for the first time, finally letting go of all the built up tension between them. a white button up polo and a black tight skirt hugs your body meanwhile jaehyun was dressed in a black suit. the office set ready to go.

setting - office. everyone else has gone home leaving your two characters, alone, in the night.

3, 2, 1, lights, camera…ACTION!

you walk over to jaehyun’s character sitting on his computer chair, lazily leaned back, legs wide open, his back to his desk. he watches you intently with a dark gaze in his eyes as you inch closer and closer to his face, teasing him.

“kiss me,” jaehyun says, sticking to the script.

“if i kiss you, i win,” you taunt, character teasing his.

“you win,” he agrees, whispering against your lips, earning a smirk of victory from you.

finally, you connect the space in between you, lips landing on his, before quickly pulling away. soft gazes interlocked, dramatic pause. jaehyun’s hand gently makes its way to the back of your head, pulling you in again as he takes the lead, deepening the kiss.

just as practiced, his hands go to your hips, pulling you down on to him as you rested your knees on his sides, capturing him in between your thighs, fitting in the small office chair. the make out session grows heavier and heavier, tongues battling — combination of spearmint and cherry chapstick making you addicted.

he slowly starts unbuttoning your top, lacy black bra coming into view, as his lips connected with your collarbones, gently sucking. “you don’t know how long i've been wanting to do this,” he says, the line coming out perfectly as he completely discards your shirt, leaving kisses on the top of your breasts.

your body responds to his actions, instinctively grinding down on him, clothed core coming into contact with his hard length, stomach tingling with arousal. jaehyun can’t help but release a strangled groan at your unexpected movement, the noise going straight to your head. this was not part of the script but he doesn’t break, he’ll play along with your improvisation. his large hands immediately go to your ass, cupping them with a light squeeze, cold fingertips making you whine against his ear, cock twitching in response.

as scripted, he picks you up carefully, lips messily clashing back together, before turning around and placing you on the computer desk, his body tucked in between your hips. you briefly pull away as he yanks his black tie off of his neck, your hand quickly unbuttoning his shirt and dropping it to the floor. your characters share a cheeky smile as you grab his trousers, pulling him towards you.

you unzip his pants, making it fall to the bottom of his legs, boxers soon to follow, leaving jaehyun standing there, naked, a piece of tiny cloth covering his large member, the camera angling right behind him now, a perfect shot of his ass into view, your legs wrapped around him, skirt hitched up.

and just like what you practiced, the choreography starts coming to life, jaehyun pulls down your panties, leaving you in the tiny cloth that covers your cunt before “thrusting” into you, his hands roughly grabbing your hips, as you release fake grunts and moans.

it was all an act, yet it was hard to ignore his rock hard boner and the cloth that was starting to stick to your cunt, pooling with your arousal, as you continued to dry hump your co-star.

“you. feel. so. good,” jaehyun grunts with each thrust. that was not a line in the script but at this point, who gives a fuck.

his lips were back on yours as you swallowed each other’s moans, sucking noises and teeth clashing accompanied with your heavy breathing was the only thing that could be heard throughout the set, the crew watching attentively, focused on the intense scene.

the table below you starts squeaking from the movement, moans becoming more real with every second that passes.

you grab onto jaehyun’s shoulders pulling him even closer to you, body heat radiating onto you as his thrusts get messier and messier. deep grunts resonating in your ear as you feel your arousal stain the cloths in between you.

“f-fuck i’m gonna cum,” jaehyun grunts, his body shaking, his grip on your hips tightening and then you feel it…the wetness of his release sticking in between your thighs. he actually came.

jaehyun quickly pulls away, eyes in quiet shock at his own actions as you both try to calm your composure, breathing heavily, now very much aware of the crowd around you.

he tries moving away but you keep him in place, afraid that the crew behind him would see the mess he has left behind. your eyes subtly dart down to your discarded clothing, silently communicating with him.

“okay, CUT!,” the director yells, snapping you both into place as jaehyun quickly removes himself from your space, gently pulling your skirt back down as you swiftly cross your legs together.

he quickly pulls his pants back up, before facing the crew, hoping that no one could see the wet spot that has tainted his protection cloth and is now dripping down his leg. handing you back your shirt, you cover yourself up, standing next to him, thighs sticking together, awaiting further instructions.

“i yelled cut 10 minutes ago but you guys didn’t hear me,” the director chuckled as the both of you stood there, ears bright red, smiling sheepishly, “amazing job, that felt really real, we’ll use that one” she says, clapping. the entire crew cheering at the one shot one take – it was very real, but only you and jaehyun knew that.

“that’s a wrap for today,” she ends the scene as you and jaehyun walk off the set quietly, the sexual tension in the air lingering.

once you were out of earshot, jaehyun pulled you to the side, “sorry about that, i got too caught up i guess,” he apologizes, ears burning red, refusing to make eye contact.

“it's okay,” you reassured him, “i didn’t let you do anything that i didn’t want to do,” you quietly responded, your answer giving him back his confidence.

“oh, really?,” he teases, dimples coming out to play.

“really…i-i liked it,” you confess, making him grin even wider as he took a step towards you, figure completely towering over you, before whispering, “how about i return the favor in my dressing room and make you cum, pretty girl?,” your breath hitches in your throat, the stickiness in your thighs becoming very evident as the excitement bubbles through you again.

“would you like that, pretty?,” he whispers, landing a soft kiss on your neck. you grab on to his hand, leading him to the direction of his trailer, a deep chuckle coming from the boy next to you.

jaehyun immediately gets to work as soon as you were in the safety of his room, locking the door and pushing you up against the wall, lips quickly back in yours, “you taste so good, i fucking love kissing scenes with you,” he confesses, earning a whine of approval from you.

“jump,” he orders. you jump, wrapping your legs around his torso as he picks you up, placing you on his table, getting on his knees, face finding his spot in between your legs. he pushes your skirt back up and finally takes off the barrier, the cold air hitting your pussy before his tongue swipes through your folds, making you sigh in pleasure.

“so fucking wet,” he moans against your pussy, “is this all for me, pretty?,” he teases, lapping up your juices.

“a-all for you, jaehyun,” you whine, hips desperately arching up to meet his lips. he furiously licks your folds, moving his face up and down, sharp nose rubbing on your clit.

“just like that jaehyun, please don't stop,” you cry out in a whine, the pleasure building in your stomach, hands harshly gripping his hair making him moan, the vibration sending tingles all throughout your body.

he continues licking up and down your folds, tongue going in and out of your hole, swirling and sucking around your sensitive bud again and again.

the lewd noises turns him on, his own hand immediately going straight to his hard cock, pumping himself to your whiny moans that were filling up the room.

your breathing becomes heavier and heavier, messily thrusting your hips up to his face, desperate for release as he pumps his cock faster and faster, matching the rhythm of his tongue against your pussy.

“i’m cumming, i’m cumming,” you repeat like it was a mantra, eyes closing, head falling back against his dressing mirror. jaehyun quickened the pace on his dick, pumping harshly, wanting to come with you. your body goes slack as your release takes over, body shaking with pleasure.

jaehyun’s free hand goes straight to your thigh keeping you open for him as he continues to collect your juices, making sure he cleans up every drop. your pussy stifling his groans as he cums in his pants once again.

you push him away, the overstimulation getting to you and he makes his way back to your lips, kissing you slowly. you taste yourself on his tongue. his fingers filled with his juices come in contact with your lips and you don’t waste a second licking it off of him, gently sucking on his fingertips.

“all that, and you haven’t even touched me yet, god, you drive me crazy, pretty girl” he confesses, kissing you once again, carefully pulling your skirt back down to cover you.

“i want to touch you,” you plead, pulling his trousers towards you again, just like the scene but he steps away before you can pull it off him, clicking his tongue, head shaking no.

“how about you let me take you out on a real date first, pretty girl?,” he asks, a playful smirk on his lips and your heart swoons, a soft smile growing on your features.

he was a gentleman after all and you weren’t the only one crushin’ on him.

“i would love that,” you agree, pulling him towards you for another kiss.

an: happy bday to my valentine boy, the man of the hour, jung jaehyun! <3 pls come home the kids miss you + a happy happy valentine’s day to all you freaky freaky people <333 (p.s. if anyone saw my post, i was originally supposed to post his part of the sour series but idk every time i open that file my mind shuts down and i get slapped with writers block and can’t write anything so you got this instead zzz this one’s sexier anyways lol)

[daikunart]

[theonewhohyperfixates]

I mean…… Aym and Baal were already grown in purgatory when the lamb arrived so liiiike they’re chronologically older than them. That thought always made me laugh

Original;

[ourwhisperingtorment]

The many times the show made it obvious that the Hwang bros love and care for each other

Inho gave his kidney to Junho because he can’t let his little brother die. If that doesn’t scream “LOVE” I don’t know what does.

Junho in s1. Do I need to elaborate? He literally risked his life going there. He killed ruthlessly. I know that he is aware there’s a high probability that Inho’s already dead (considering he was one of the players) but he still went on. He wanted justice if his brother was really dead. That is DEDICATION. And you can’t have dedication without love.

The Frontman looking at Junho’s ID for too long. I’m pretty sure his brain froze there for a moment before experiencing mixed emotions as to how he can keep his little brother alive. Also the, “bring him to me alive,”—no one is allowed hurt his little brother except Inho himself

The VIP room when that one fucking VIP asked Junho to stay, and Junho replied, “but I must serve the other guests.” We all saw the frontman look their way (it’s only 1 second so it’s a blink and miss it). He recognized his little brother’s voice. (But at that moment, he was unsure so he didn’t do anything.)

Inho shooting Junho on the shoulder but hesitating and shaking before doing so. After shooting him, he looked so distressed. He even hallucinated an image of his brother when he was cleaning his wound. He’s clearly on the verge of crying too. This was the very first time we saw that the frontman still has humanity in him.

I’m pretty sure it was Inho who sent Captain Park to rescue his brother. To ensure he’d make it out of the island alive. But also to keep him running in circles so he wouldn’t find the island again. He wanted his brother away and safe from the games.

Junho’s last word before being in a coma & Junho’s first word after being in a 1 year coma is “hyung.”

Junho continued to search for the island for 2 years after that 1 year coma. We all know he wants to see his brother first before trying to save everyone there. Is he even trying to save the players at this point? When we all know he could ruthlessly kill people who got in his way of searching for his brother? (Well, he has a sense of justice. But I would still say his brother comes first.)

Junho not telling Gihun about the frontman’s identity. His face looking all sad and depressed whenever Gihun mentions “the frontman.”

Remember the snipers who shot the cars trailing Inho’s limousine? The snipers didn’t shoot Junho’s car but instead, there was something attached in his car that only affected one wheel. Inho really couldn’t risk some snipers shooting his little brother.

I’ve said this in another post but I’ll say it again: Their relationship wouldn’t be so complicated if they didn’t love each other.

[jinstronaut]

happy 30th birthday, kim namjoon (김남준) !